


the work we put in

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cars, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Healing, Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Possibly Unrequited Love, Romance, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Trust Issues, mentions of past relationships - Freeform, skoulsonfest2k16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5781214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skoulsonfest2k16 - DAY 4 · 21 January, obligatory Lola prompt, late night chats</p><p>Daisy and Coulson work on Lola together.  Inspired by AvatarQuake's fic, "Working on your car".</p>
            </blockquote>





	the work we put in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvatarQuake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarQuake/gifts).



**One.**

She’s been encouraged to give him his space.

He’ll come around when he’s ready, May told her.

But that’s not what’s going on at all. 

He’s just acting like nothing happened on that alien world.  That everything is the same.

It’s not like it’s the first time he’s done this.  Now the difference is she can sense it, somehow.

Probably her powers, the sensitivity of vibrations and how she can tell people apart.

He doesn’t _feel_ the same.

Curiosity wins out, and she decides to peek into his office when she sees the lights still on.

He’s not there.

She frowns for a moment, sitting down in one of the chairs and waiting.

Probably just went to the bathroom.

After she starts tapping her feet against the desk, she knows she’s reached her limit and gets up and walks down the steps.

It’s the late crew, and most of the team is probably turning in for the evening.

Lincoln might even be looking for her.  She pulls her phone out of her pocket and doesn’t notice any messages, then heads to the hangar, hoping to find Mack still up.

He’s not there, either.  Sometimes he and Joey get up to working on stuff late, but not tonight.

Just as she’s about to turn around, she notices a light on, tucked away in a corner.

“What’s up?” she asks, watching him slowly put down the tool in his hand and turn towards her.

“Daisy,” he says, stopping what he’s doing and pulling out a rag from his pocket to wipe at his hands.

He’s just wearing sweats and a t-shirt, like he’s ready for bed, or something. Not Director stuff.

“This a new project?” she asks, walking around Lola and putting her hands on the bodywork until she’s on the other side across from him.

“Yeah,” he answers.  “Just some modifications I’d been thinking about.  Figured now was a good time.”

And she can feel it again. 

He’s lying. 

His vibrations change, like they did before.  When they got involved with the ATCU and she could tell he was hiding stuff.

Feelings.  About Price.

“Guess I’ll leave you to it,” she says, shrugging after he stands in front of her in an uncomfortable silent state.

“Okay,” he says, picking up the tool and leaning back over the hood.

Pretending.  Like all of this is…normal.

“This is not normal, Phil,” she tells him, unable to duck it any longer.

His eyes slowly meet hers again, and he sighs.  Like it’s exhausting.

“What happened to you is not normal.  It shouldn’t have, and it’s not okay.”

He stands up again, narrowing his eyes at her. His lips part like he’s finally going to say something, anything she hopes, but he doesn’t.

“You’re acting like nothing is wrong.”

“I’m doing my best,” he tells her slowly, and she feels him spike, like he’s trying to maintain some kind of control.

“I can feel it,” she admits, looking away from him, suddenly overwhelmed herself.

“Feel what?” he asks, curious but apprehensive.

She waves a hand at him. “Your…stuff.”

Dropping her hand, she crosses her arms against her body, wanting to feel smaller, because she knows his eyes are on her now, even if she’s not looking.

“With your powers?” he finally asks, putting the tool down again.

She nods and then tries to put on a brave face and drags her eyes up to his.

“I wasn’t sure if it was me or you, but I think it’s clear now.”

His eyes widen, and he looks terrified.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” she promises him.   “Please, don’t be upset, I can’t control it.”

“I’m not upset with you,” he answers quickly. 

“I should probably head to bed,” she says immediately, walking back around the way she came.

“Alright,” he answers, staring down at the hood, his expression unreadable.

“Good night,” she tells him.

He doesn’t answer.

As she walks away, she doesn’t feel anything coming from him at all.

 

 

**Two.**

She knows she should let it alone. Never been her strong suit, though.  
  
"Hi," she says, showing up again the next night.  
  
"You're back," he answers, stopping. Not exactly hiding his irritation.  
  
"Yeah," she says, her eyes tracing over Lola's curves. Sounding more cheerful than she feels.  
  
After all, he didn't exactly reject her for telling him she's a human lie detector.  
  
"I was thinking," she begins, as he puts the tool down realizing this will be drawn out. "What you told me at the Retreat. On the way, really."  
  
"Yes?"  He sounds like he wants her to get to the point, but also not at the same time.  
  
"You and your dad working on Lola. Together. How much you valued it."  
  
"That's right," he agrees.  
  
"And, I thought that we, we could do this. Together?"  
  
"Because I'm the red corvette?" he says, with a little smirk.  
  
"Yes!" she says, letting out a breath, relieved he got the metaphor. "We both are?"  
  
She bites her lip, waiting for his answer and feels a flutter from him.  
  
"Okay," he says, smiling a little shyly.

But he's smiling, and that's all she cares about.

  

 

**Three.**

"I know a little something about cars," she tells him. Raises an eyebrow in challenge.  
  
He's being patient with her, because she's a bit on edge tonight.  
  
Instead of answering, he makes a blasé face and leaves her to it, backs off and goes to get a beer off the workbench.  
  
She gets back to work, already feeling guilty she skipped out the night before because Lincoln had to be talked down after the mission.  
  
It took all night, and he's not convinced they're doing what's right for Inhumans.  
  
She's just trying to do right by _everyone_ and she's not going to pick a side.  
  
"There," she says, looking down at the loosened bolt.  
  
This, at least, has been going alright. She caught on quick and asks the right questions and Coulson enjoys the company in his way, she thinks.  
  
It works between them like this.  It always has.  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me why I skipped out on you?" she finally blurts.  
  
"Nope," he replies, taking a sip.  
  
She just huffs at him and shakes her head, taking out the part.  
  
"Fine," she says. Wiggling her fingers at him. "Are you going to help at all?"  
  
He stands slowly and takes the replacement part out of its box, taking his sweet time.  
  
"I could probably guess, though," he says, raising his eyebrows as he drinks, handing it over. "And I don't even have powers."  
  
She looks at his smug expression and yanks it away, rolling her eyes.  
  
"How so?" she asks, setting the part into place.  
  
"You get tetchy."  
  
"Tetchy?" she repeats, stopping for a moment. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Irritable. Easily provoked."  
  
"Are you trying to provoke me?" she asks, turning the wrench and getting frustrated by the angle, the lack of leverage.  

It shouldn't be this hard.  
  
"Here, let me," he offers, reaching over her shoulder.  
  
"I've got it," she tells him, giving him a little elbow so that he'll back off.  
  
"Hey," he tells her. "Actual uses for a robot hand."  
  
"You're right," she sighs, stepping back, rubbing against her forehead.  
  
He hands her his beer and takes the tool and one good twist and it's done.  
  
"Thanks," she mutters.  
  
"I'm sorry," he tells her, handing her back the tool and taking his beer.  "If you feel pulled in two directions."  
  
She shuts her eyes for a moment, not eager to drag _that_ into _this_.  
  
She just feels safe here.  
  
With him. And Lola.  
  
She always has.

 

 

**Four.**

He's staring at her, like he has something on his mind.  
  
"You're wearing your serious face," she mentions, putting out her hand for the tool.  
  
This could be about that _thing_ wearing Ward. Of feeling like pawns in some twisted cosmic game.  
  
Except the vibes, though. It reminds her of Price.  
  
She's on his mind.  
  
"Is this about her?" she asks, kind of grateful she feels comfortable enough to say it.  
  
"What?" 

He cocks his head at her, like he needs her to repeat it, holds onto the tool, too.  
  
"Price," she shrugs. "Rosalind?"  
  
He looks utterly confused.  
  
"Why would you bring her up?" he asks, freeing up his hands by setting the tool carefully on Lola's hood.  
  
"You're doing that thing," she mentions. "I can feel it."  
  
"You think-" he stops himself like his own thoughts have either amazed or stunned him.  
  
"I'm not thinking about her. I haven't in awhile, actually," he says in a scoffing tone.  "I'm not sure what that says about me."

She looks at his worried expression and says the first thing that comes to mind.  "You didn't exactly _know_ her."  
  
"No, I didn't."  And he pauses, like he's working through his thoughts, and then arrives there. "I was thinking about you."  
  
"Why?" she says, crossing her arms. "Are you hiding something? _That_ never goes well."  
  
He chuckles at that.  
  
"No, I guess it doesn't."

She leans over the hood and then stretches out her hand again, waiting for him to hand her the tool, if that's where this conversation is headed.

"I was thinking about you. I always think about you."  
  
She takes a deep breath and then holds it.  The way his voice sounds so soft. She wants to laugh at the way the tables have turned.  At the assumptions she's had this whole time.  
  
"For how long?" she asks, turning across her shoulder to look at him.  
  
"I'm not sure, but it feels like I can't even remember when it started. I just wanted to give you something. To help."  
  
"You did," she tells him, standing up straight, brushing the hair out of her eyes.  
  
"And then, I wanted more," he says regretfully. "That's not really fair to you, is it?"   
  
"You were hiding," she reminds him, as he looks down.  
  
"I was conflicted about it. Still am, I guess? I tried to move on."

He sounds so guilty, and she just wants to start this conversation over again.  From a better place.  
  
"What were you going to say?" she tells him.  "Before I interrupted you?"  
  
"I was going to confess," he smiles. "After all the work you've put in, I owe you that at least."

"Phil-" she says, taking a few steps towards him.

"I was just trying to hold on to something that I couldn't," he explains, looking up at her, pleading.  "Then I realized-"  
  
"Phil-" She pushes him up against Lola's door, as he braces himself on the window. "Stop talking."

She kisses him, despite the shocked reaction, the feeling of him going stiff against her.  
  
So she kisses him again, with more intention, and she knows the moment when he lets go. Starts to believe that she wants this, too.  
  
"I trust you."  She whispers it against his mouth, feeling his chest rise and fall against hers. "Trust _me_."  
  
He kisses her back, sudden and desperate, threading his fingers through her hair, grabbing her tight against him with his other prosthetic hand.

She can barely control herself, realizing how much she's wanted this. How much she's _wanted,_ without any conditions attached.  
  
Without having to doubt herself.

She's felt so trapped, but she belongs _here_.

And they are building something.

Together.


End file.
